


Blurred Lines

by YourAverageBystander



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Ralph has a grudge on Roger idk why don’t ask me, Ralph has problems, Simon is baby, Surprising lack of period typical homophobia, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 14,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23452381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourAverageBystander/pseuds/YourAverageBystander
Summary: “If you want to keep your bond with Simon safe, you have to remember the line.”Ralph was sure Roger was absolutely nutty now. “The line? What line?”Roger poked Ralph’s chest with his spear for emphasis. “The line between protection and possession.”Ralph/SimonAn alternative ending to Lotf. Simon isn’t killed at the feast, and Ralph has to juggle his new passion for his best friend while leading his tribe through rough times.Based on the book, not the movie.
Relationships: Jack Merridew/Roger, Ralph/Simon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. How Is It Supposed To Feel

“Where is Simon?”

Piggy disregarded him, too busy wiping the grime from off of his pudgy cheek. The overweight boy couldn’t catch his breath, overworked from gathering an abundance of firewood in place of half of the other boys. “Haven’t we been over this? We have to get going if we don’t want to be late to the feast.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ralph swallowed calmly, cleaning off his own pinkened palms. “Maybe we should look for him.”

“What’s got you in your head about Simon?”

Ralph averted his eyes, all of the sudden feeling ashamed. Why was he so hurt? Maybe it was because the boy had seemed so open and vulnerable with him- he didn’t want to face the possibility that the inferior boy he had considered a friend trusted someone like Jack more than him.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

“Alright. I’ll go get Samneric.”

“Meet me at the feast.”

Piggy trudged off exhaustedly, looking for the twins who were off probably putting off gathering more wood.

Ralph himself began a steady hike to castle rock, pretending not to notice when he ventured a different path, the familiar trail that he’d seen a fluffy-haired boy follow on occasion. It was long and secluded, and Ralph froze when he smelled a disgusting odor wafting through the trees.  
He groaned in discomfort at sight of a decomposing pig head, impaled and displayed on a spear like a trophy, an offering. 

“Hello?” He called timidly, suppressing the fear that a hunter still lingered. “Simon? You out here?”

There was no vocal response, but Ralph briefly heard movement, following it. “Simon?” He repeated, breath hitching as he caught view of a small boy curled up in a fetal position. He was whispering softly to himself, almost as if he were having a conversation. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?”

The boy looked up, pupils blown frighteningly wide. “Ralph? You came for me.”

“Yeah, I did. Why are you here? Where’ve you been?”

Simon swallowed, eyes darting around frantically. His hair was sticking uncomfortably to his forehead, slick with sweat. He looked feverish; if Ralph didn’t know better he’d assume the boy was terribly ill. 

“I’m sorry. I’m scared. Do you hate me?”

Ralph wiped his running nose, annoyed by the question. “Sod off, of course I don’t hate you. Just would’ve liked a little more help with the firewood, ‘s all.”

Simon let out a shaky breath, staring at Ralph like some sort of deity. He had yet to get off of the ground, show himself in the light. Ralph worried what he’d see.

“Let’s go, huh? Jack’s throwing a shindig, we’re just gonna check it out and maybe have a little food,” Ralph continued awkwardly, offering a hand. Simon stared at it for a while, transfixed, before accepting the gesture and standing up. In the light Ralph could see he looked even worse than before. There was blood smeared down his nose and upper lip, caking pale skin in thick crimson. His eyes seemed a bit bloodshot as well. “What happened to you?” He whispered unintentionally, gently wiping a bit of green dirt from his forehead.

“I don’t think I’m well, Ralph. I think I’ve gone batty,” Simon’s voice shook, sniffling. “Roger scares me.”

“Roger’s a bully. You don’t have to be with him if you don’t entertain Jack’s idea of a new tribe,” Ralph insisted, malice seeping into the cracks of his tone. 

“Then why are we going to his feast?”

Ralph paused, considering his answer carefully. Really, he was just so, so, so hungry. “Just to see how everything is going. Make sure these ‘hunters’ are really dedicated to their new ‘chief’.” He spat out some words with sarcastic emphasis. Perhaps it was unfair to be taking out his frustrations on poor Simon, but it seemed irrelevant at the moment. Simon always had a way of listening like others could not. Even with infinitely different experiences and circumstances, he always seemed to understand. There was reserved compassion that Ralph secretly craved deeply.

“It’s still supporting him. I’m not going.”

Ralph didn’t even have to think about that before rebuking in disapproval. “You have to go. If anything you just need some meat. You’re skin and bones.”

“You’re not much better,” Simon reminded, eyes flicking down at Ralph’s torso. The latter got uncomfortable very quickly, turning defensively.  
“Then it’s a good thing the hunters are sharing.”

“Okay, fine I’ll come,” Simon muttered under his breath, just barely being heard by Ralph. 

Ralph softly smiled at Simon, eyes sympathetic. He knew Simon didn’t want to go to this sudden banquet, was thankful for his decision regardless. Ralph hadn’t wanted to deal with Jack and his tribe with only Samneric and Piggy, they were more trouble than they were worth. They sat in comfortable silence as they walked back to the shore.


	2. Whatever Happens, Let It Happen

The boys knew they had reached the feast before they even laid eyes on the food. There was a distinct smell of cooked meat that practically made Ralph’s mouth water, along with the sound of cheering and rambunctious boys dancing around the fire. Light visibly scattered in striking rays against the sand, contrasted by the shadows formed in darkness.  
Ralph would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit frightened as they walked in. All of the boys seemed happy to see him, however, even if they denied it as soon as Jack looked over.  
Maurice shot him a welcoming, toothless smile, and Robert waved happily.  
The five boys took seats, ignoring Jack’s heavy glare on them. Sam and Eric had no care in the world, immediately devouring into a nearby leg like siamese carnivores. Simon and Piggy looked uncomfortable, both hesitating to even sit down. 

“Hello,” they heard, the ginger finally addressing them. “What are you waiting for? Eat my food.”

Piggy wasted no time. With the verbal permission he needed, he joined Sam and Eric in ravaging the pork.  
Simon still looked like a deer in the headlights, glued to the spot. He looked frightened, eyes darting between Roger and Jack and finally Ralph.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ralph comforted awkwardly, patting his shoulder. “Sit down, eat something. If they try anything I’ll protect you.”

Simon swallowed, face softening. He sat down without breaking eye contact, licking his chapped lips. 

Ralph sat too, eyeing the potential threats cautiously. 

They dug in.

Eating actual food was like glimpsing into heaven, and once Ralph started he couldn’t stop. He lost himself in the sensation that he’d been deprived of, nothing else seeming anywhere near as important anymore. Simon forgot himself too, fluid and meat staining his cheeks as he consumed without care.

Jack watched them, smirking proudly. This was his tribe. He knew Ralph’s “tribe” would join them too, especially after this grand display of superiority and generosity.

It was all a ruse to get them to join his tribe, obviously.  
Not that he was worried about them starving without him hunting for them, obviously.  
Not like he cared or anything, obviously.

“Roger,” he began, his second in command perking up at the sound of his name. “Go convince Samneric to stay with us. First we take them, then Simon.”

“What about Piggy?”

“I don’t really want fatty in our tribe. His brains would be helpful though. I guess get him too. Then Ralph will really see who deserves the title of chief.”

Roger nodded curtly, making his way over to the twins with ease.

The sun melted under the horizon, the colors painting the sky vanishing completely as dusk settled. The fire became a warm beacon of festivity and dancing, even Sam and Eric joining in the fun. They fit right in, even forming an unexpected comradery with Roger as the night progressed.

Eventually he and Simon discreetly merged in with the other boys, having fun with their own shoving and singing.

At one point one of the boys lost their civility completely, getting engrossed in his scene of a pig hunt with his friend. They rushed off and returned with their spears, imitating fighting poses and stances. Soon the mob joined them, circling up and chanting in an entrancing ritual. Ralph shoved himself in front of a few boys to see what was going on, refusing to be in the back of the circle.

He was transfixed, almost in a trance as he witnessed their intimate ceremony, almost missing a soft “help!” from a familiar young voice.

“Simon?” He whispered to himself, eyes focusing on the new target of attention.  
The boys were shoving Simon around like a ragdoll, treating him like their prey and poking at his sides with the barbed spears. The raven haired boy put up no resistance other than obligatory winces and shrieks of fear, eventually falling to the ground and crawling backwards in an attempt to escape. His effort was proven fruitless, however, as he just bumped into another hunter, who kicked him roughly on the torso.

“Down, pig!”

“Ralph!”

“Hey!” Ralph finally returned, breaking out of the circle and rushing to help him up. “What the hell are you doing?” He shouted accusingly at the hunters who were picking on him, red in the face and fuming.

“Calm down, it was just a game,” Jack intervened, the boys splitting to make him a path like he was some omnipotent deity. “Nothing like a real hunt. Those are much more thrilling.”

Someone in the crowd hollered.

“Back off, Merridew,” Ralph narrowed his eyes, one arm still wrapped around Simon protectively. “Play your games with someone else. Me and the people here who actually care about getting rescued are leaving.”

Jack’s brows furrowed in distaste, and within a moment Roger was at his side, spear drawn.

“Let’s go,” Ralph reiterized, ignoring their threatening position. Piggy scuttled over to join him, and after a tense hesitation so did Sam and Eric. 

“Who do you think you are?” Jack’s voice boomed, eyes fixed on Ralph. “You come here, you eat the food I got for you, even after you treated me terribly, and then you just leave? Not even a thanks?”

Everyone went silent, glancing at the pacifistic leader. He could feel the antagonism, shocked at how easily Jack could manipulate the dynamics like that.

Ralph tried to speak, but found that words failed him. The silence continued, air thick and tepid.

“With all due respect,” Piggy precursed, looking genuinely terrified of standing up to him. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Ralph. He’s the one that encouraged you to be a hunter in the first place. It was a give and take, symbiotic relationship, but you stopped giving. You and your hunters stopped helping out. You gave no thought to rescue.” 

Ralph liked that metaphor; it implied that Jack was a parasite. He thought that was pretty accurate.

“On behalf of all of Ralph’s followers, we thank you for the meal. One could say... we’re even now.”

And with that, all eyes were boring holes into their skin (most prominently Roger’s, the subject already being held back by Jack so he wouldn’t skin Piggy alive) as they grouped together and left the Castle Rock.


	3. Just Gotta Look Out For Attachment

“That was impressive,” Simon whispered once they returned to the shelter, smiling up at Piggy as a small offer of admiration. 

Ralph practically collapsed at the foot of the shelter, desperate to get water. Sam had fallen into a food coma at some point on the way home, and Ralph was deemed the most fit to carry him, leaving him with the annoying task of hauling both of them across the island in the darkness. He was fairly exhausted, shooing the now groggily awake boy to go rest in the shelter with his brother.

Piggy was shaking, most likely from leftover adrenaline, and he also crashed in the other slightly less sturdy home. 

Simon rushed to follow Ralph as he went to fill some coconuts with freshwater from the stream, tripping a bit over some overgrown creepers as he fought to catch up. He was leaving a gross trail of blood behind his path, the soles of his bare feet bleeding from cuts on rocks and thistle as he stumbled through the jungle.

The chief took pity and slowed down a bit, resuming his earlier pace as soon as the younger boy caught up. He wanted to get the water and get to sleep, so he could hopefully get up early the next morning. They had to light the fire as soon as possible, to maximize the chance of rescue, especially as they’d been neglecting to light it before sunset recently. It was just an abundance of work, and Ralph was just abundantly tired.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Simon began as they walked, wrapping his arms around his own large coconut in a strangely familiar embrace. “For helping me, back at Jack’s. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stepped in.”

“You would’ve been fine,” Ralph cut him off, throat hoarse with dehydration. “Just annoying little kids, s’all they are.” 

Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah.”

“When a ship sails by, who’s signal fire is it gonna see? That’s right, ours. Because we’ve made our fire for smoke, while theirs is for leisure and cooking and steam. They’re fools!”

Simon didn’t seem surprised at his abrupt tangent, just licking his lips and agreeing.

They reached the river, and both boys took pleasure in drinking directly from the rushing waves. They ended up with water all over their faces and tops, soaking the dirty fabrics and clinging to their skin uncomfortably.

It was unbearably humid, dampening the boys’ lengthening hair and making it cling to their foreheads. The crickets were awake and louder than ever, filling the night with sounds of wilderness and nature. 

Ralph stripped of his shirt, the mugginess compensating for the dropping temperatures against his exposed skin. Simon followed suit, wrapping his shirt around the now heavily full coconut like a blanket. They walked back to the camp in comfortable silence, taking breaks every once and a while to set down the cumbersome drinks and wipe the blood and grime from their feet. 

“I’m scared,” Simon admitted once they’d arrived back, as they sat down their coconuts and rested on the logs surrounding the firepit. The younger boy pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and staring into what would’ve been a glorious fire. 

“Yeah,” Ralph responded, at a loss for words. There was a lot to be scared about, recently.

“Why doesn’t Jack like us?” 

Ralph picked up a particularly long twig, tracing lines into the malleable soil. “He wants to be in charge. He’s a stupid boy.”

Simon considered this. “Piggy isn’t stupid. Why isn’t he in charge?”

Ralph huffed. “Piggy is fat and annoying. Nobody would take him seriously.”

“I suppose you're right. Can I sit by you?”

“Guess so.”

With that permission, Simon uncurled himself and sat next to Ralph. The latter immediately noticed his shivering, placing his hand on his forearm to feel the confirming goosebumps. 

“You’re freezing.”  
“My shirt got wet.”

Ralph sighed, rolling his eyes. “We’ll dry it by the fire tomorrow. Come on, you’ll warm up if you go to bed.”

Simon shook his head hastily, eyes flickering around. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m scared,” Simon repeated, gaze drifting into the silhouetted treetops. 

“Don’t be scared.”

“What scares you?” Simon asked innocently, eyes wide and curious.

Everything, he wanted to say. Jack’s manipulation. Roger’s predatory glares. Simon’s glossy, unfocused eyes, staring at him through a psychologically damaged haze.

“The thought of being here forever,” he settled, patting Simon’s shoulder in conclusion. “If you sleep in the same shelter as me, will you be alright?”

Simon flushed at the generosity, barely concealing a grateful smile. “Yeah.”

“Alright then.”

They sat in silence for another minute. Ralph was subconsciously shocked at how easy it was to find comfort in the presence of the other boy, how just existing together in silence was enjoyable enough to become a habit. He guessed he didn’t mind.

Eventually, a significantly pitchy cricket squealed Ralph out of his nirvana. He stood up, mirrored by Simon, and they climbed up into the empty shelter. 

Blankets made of large catalpa leaves were spread around the wooden floor, layered ones serving as comfortless matresses. There were a few littluns wrapped up in a blanket like a sleeping bag, or a strange, cannibal exclusive burrito.

Ralph gathered some extra blankets, and pillows made from leaf bags filled with a soft, cotton-like shrub.

“Thank you,” Simon whispered softly as Ralph made the bed, straightening the corners in an attempt to help.

“It’s nothing,” Ralph shrugged, ever having a way with words.  
After what felt like ages Ralph crawled into the bed, body groaning as he adjusted to the new strain on his back. Regardless, it felt good to just lay down after so much physical and mental stress. Simon tucked himself in a few seconds later, body facing Ralph’s so he could look at him.

“What?” Ralph inquired when he noticed Simon horizontally staring at him, fighting a weird urge to giggle childishly.

“Nothing,” Simon deflected, instead turning to look at the ceiling.

“You’ve got mud on you,” Ralph noticed, reaching out to wipe it off. Simon looked a little surprised as his thumb wiped his soft cheek, eyes shutting as Ralph let his hand linger there. The gesture felt strangely intimate, and his heart suddenly yearned with homesickness. He remembered his mother reciting the same movements as she took a napkin and cleaned food from his face, tsking him for his lack of cleanliness.

Simon must’ve felt the same tug of nostalgia, as Ralph’s finger was soon slickened by a stray tear. 

Ralph shocked himself at the raw emotion he felt in the pit of his belly, unidentifiable but unignorable. It was hot and frustrated and determined, and with a start he realized it was a longing to protect the boy next to him.  
Simon had been there for him before, showing greater loyalty and emotional empathy than any of the other boys had bothered to even consider. Now he wanted to return that debt; if Simon was as homesick as he himself was, then he would comfort him and be there for him as much as a parent ever could. He would protect him, from Jack, from Roger, from his own mind.

Simon, peacefully unaware of his internal struggle, sniffled a bit and composed himself before letting himself relax, falling asleep within moments.

With the comfort of another person’s body heat and the warmth of feelings boiling inside, Ralph followed close behind.


	4. Why Fix What Isn’t Broken?

The air was crisp at dawn, and Ralph awoke with a draft of breeze slipping under the blanket. He was momentarily shocked to feel skin against his own, blinking the sleep out of his vision before remembering who it was. 

He rubbed his eyelids, aching to just curl up against Simon and enjoy the rare physical contact while he could, but he could hear littluns up and about outside of the shelters. He slowly and quietly removed himself from the bed, exiting the shelter and once again having to rub his vision into correction.  
The sun was unbearably bright, and partnered with the now steady fire was doing well to heat up the surprisingly cool air.

Tending to the fire was Piggy, sitting at a log and poking the firewood around with a sturdy stick. He seemed lost in thought, but glanced over to the younger kids whenever they made a sound too loud or suspicious.

“Hullo,” Ralph greeted mostly to make his presence known, sitting down at the seat adjacent. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Piggy returned, not looking away from the flames. “I almost had a heart attack earlier, I was so frightened.”

“What happened?”

“I lost my glasses.”

Ralph raised an eyebrow. That didn’t sound like something worthy of cardiac arrest. “So? Looks like you found them.”

“So? So, if we lost these glasses, we wouldn’t have any more fire.”

Ralph took a while to comprehend this, face darkening in realization. “You’re right.”

“And, Jack’s going to need a consistent source of fire soon. He’s been stealing our ignited logs on occasion, but he can’t start a fire on his own. He needs the glasses too.”

Ralph stomped his foot into the dirt, passion intensified by the innocent, playful squeals of the toddlers running around. “We can’t let him have them.”

“We can’t stop them from taking them by force, though,” Piggy reminded, and Ralph deflated at the reminder of their military weakness. “So, I say we stop them before they even get the idea. We write demands in exchange for daily fires.”

“As in?”

Piggy went on and explained his idea, and eventually Ralph caught on and nodded along with him, agreeing wholeheartedly. 

“How do we talk to them, though?”

“Tonight, we call a meeting. We make them show up, and then we pitch our idea.”

“...Okay.”

That night they prepared, Piggy holding his specs tightly against his head just in case. Sam and Eric were coming with for extra protection; the more people that came the stronger Ralph would look. They had no weapons, but Ralph was ready to throw punches if he had to. Especially at Roger. He wouldn’t mind clocking Roger in the nose at some point.

They walked to the midpoint between their base and Castle Rock, and then Ralph took hold of the conch and blew as loud as he possibly could.

He blew for dozens of minutes, finally breaking his lips away when he was too breathless to continue. Luckily, they didn’t need to call any longer anyways, as Jack emerged from the trees, flanked by Roger and Maurice. Maurice and Roger had spears, but didn’t look very intent on using them. They mostly just looked sleepy.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jack barked, narrowing his eyes accusingly. “It’s late! My hunters are trying to sleep, but they can’t with your bloody shell screaming in their ears!”

“We need to talk,” Ralph started, suddenly feeling reassured that Piggy was there behind him. He’d remind him what to say, if he forgot.

Jack didn’t even bother to be quippy or sarcastic, just snapping out an annoyed “what?”

“I have a proposal for you.”

Jack wiped his eyes tiredly, stepping closer in interest. His bodyguards moved with him, but he shooed them casually. 

“You may think your tribe is all cooler and better than mine,” Ralph began, scowling. “But we have some things that you don’t. The main thing being a source of fire.”

Jack seemed disinterested, rolling his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Piggy removed his glasses, dropping them in Ralph’s hands. The chief displayed them, just out of Jack’s reach. “We can start fires. You can’t.”

It took Jack a little time to understand the concept as well, suddenly looking shocked as it clicked into place. 

“So, you’re gonna give us the specs? What do you want in return? Meat? Spears? Face paint?”

“No, no! We’re not giving you the specs.”  
Jack looked momentarily disappointed. 

“I propose we come to a compromise. We’re willing to come to your base every morning and start a new fire for you, along with providing you your very own conch shell. It’s basically a symbol of leadership, and everyone will respect you more if you have one.” They hadn’t actually found another conch shell yet, but Ralph figured if they searched around where they found the first one they’d be fine.

Jack didn’t looked thrilled with the idea, but at least mildly satisfied. “And what are you asking for in return?”

Ralph smiled. “Meat. When a messenger comes to light your fire, at least twice a week I want them to return with enough meat to feed my whole tribe.”

Jack grimaced. “Is that all?”

“Security, too,” Ralph finished. “I want your oath that nobody in your tribe, including you, will ever harm anybody in my tribe. I want us to be at peace.”

“Ew, like an alliance?”

“Kinda.”

“But I don’t want to be your ally. I don’t like you.”

“Hey-”

Piggy cut him off before he lost his temper, holding his shoulder. Ralph took a deep breath and grounded himself.

“I don’t care. That’s part of my rules, no negotiations.”

Jack considered this, looking childishly frustrated at his internal conflict. “Fine. But if you don’t show up every single day with fire I will attack you guys.”

Ralph refrained from doing something stupid, like sticking his tongue out at him.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Jack started, looking pleased at whatever he’d just thought up. “I want Simon.”

“Wh..What?”

Piggy looked as baffled as Ralph felt, and they shared an expression of confusion.

“I want Simon in my tribe. Then you’ll have a deal.”  
“Why him?”

“He’s big enough to do work. And he’s loyal and doesn’t talk much. I think he’d make a good hunter.”

Ralph didn’t notice Piggy’s soft protests, immediately being blinded by anger. “No! Simon chose to stay in my tribe, not yours! He’s mine!”

“You can’t just claim him!”

“He chose me!”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because he’s safer with me!”

“I called dibs!”

“Well, I called dibs earlier!”

“I called dibs even before that!”

“Merridew you rotten-”

All of a sudden Roger’s spear was at his throat, preventing him from taking another step closer. He felt it poke at his adam’s apple, and the words dissolved on his tongue.

“Roger, it’s fine, geez,” Jack dismissed, the guard regretfully stepping back away. “It was a stupid fight anyways. If you care so much about him then keep him. I don’t care.”

Ralph bit back the urge to defend Simon, almost upset in a twisted way that Jack had given up on him so quickly. 

“You have a deal,” Jack sniffled, extending his arm.

Ralph walked closer to accept the embrace, eyeing Roger warily the whole time.

They shook hands.

“See you soon, Ralph,” Jack said in a way that could’ve been a sneer or could’ve been a genuine attempt at camaraderie.

“Jack,” Ralph dipped his head in acknowledgement.

They departed, Jack and Maurice in a rush to return to Castle Rock and get back to sleep. Samneric were hurried to get back to the shelters mostly because they were thirsty, and Piggy rushed behind them exhaustedly, looking like an irritated parent.

Ralph went to follow them, but was intervened by a hand grabbing his wrist. He watched his friends disappear into the trees, quickly turning to see who was stopping him. It was Roger, and they were now alone.   
For a moment his heart rate picked up, and he prayed to whatever deity was listening that this wouldn’t be where he died.

“Roger,” Ralph swallowed, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

“Ralph, I,” Roger looked uncertain, trying to figure out his phrasing. “I see how you are about Simon. I’ve seen it from the start, in little ways.”

“Huh? How do you mean?”

Roger didn’t bother to explain. “I feel it too, y’know?” He licked his lips nervously, staring at the spear clenched in his fists. “The weird… urge to protect. You have it with Simon, and I have it with..” he trailed off again, eyes flickering minutely towards the clearing in which his tribe members had left. “I don’t like you.”

“Oh?” Ralph didn’t really feel that offended, considering how unrelated it had been to the previous statements.

“I don’t like you, but I understand you. And if you want to keep your bond with Simon safe, you have to remember the line.”

Ralph was sure Roger was absolutely nutty now. “The line? What line?”

Roger poked Ralph’s chest with his spear for emphasis, glancing manically at the clearing once again. “The line between protection and possession.”

And then Jack called out for Roger and the violent boy ran off to catch up with his chief, leaving Ralph frozen in place and cursed to interpret his cryptid words.


	5. Lines Getting Blurry Now

Surprisingly, they both held true to their word. Ralph, distrustfully, sent both Samneric and Simon to light their fire. When they returned, they were void of any injuries and clad with a generous amount of pork, more than Ralph could have ever asked for. 

They went swimming that afternoon, scooping out another, albeit smaller conch from deep in the underwater sand banks. They delivered that the next day, along with the fire, this time Piggy (hesitantly) being the one to travel. He returned unscathed, and soon they had a routine full of apprehensive trust and mutual benefit.

As the days went on, no rescue arrived, and the time was taking its toll on each of the boys. Simon was gaining some weight back, but was still unhealthily skinny, and Piggy and Samneric were losing significant amounts of fat as well. Their hair grew longer, and became inconvenient enough that one of the older littluns started a barbershop. Apparently his father had been a barber, so the little guy actually had skill in the department, and soon enough pretty much everyone in Ralph’s tribe had traded in berries and cool shells to purchase a cut.

When Ralph delivered the fire he made sure to check up on Jack’s tribe, to see how they were faring. Nobody was quite as malnourished, and they seemed to quite embrace the barbaric look, but he discreetly recommended the “local barbershop” when they looked particularly unkempt. Jack himself looked pretty ridiculous, locks of red curls spilling over his forehead like the vines curling from the trees. He pretended not to notice when some members of Jack’s tribe visited the shelters and left with inches of hair removed.

“It’s getting rather cold, don’t you think?” Ralph scrutinized, wading his toes in the water. The liquid was practically the same temperature as the atmosphere, an indifferent lukewarm. The climate was stark contrasting, as the past few months had spent in tropical heat and cancer-promising sunlight.

“I suppose it would be around winter back at the mainland,” Piggy nodded in confirmation, laying on his belly. He let his hands float in the water too, watching them in a trance.

Simon emerged from the water, short jet hair flicking back as he looked up at his friends. He rubbed the water out of his eyes, doggy paddling. “Has it really only been a few months? It feels like we’ve been here for years.”

“I thought so too, but I’ve been trying to track the sun. I’m no professional or anything.”

“Sounds pretty professional,” Ralph elbowed him, grinning. He’d been getting along with Piggy a bit better recently.

A couple littluns swam over to Simon, the excited boy picking them up and throwing them in the air.

Ralphs watched them scream as they fell back into the ocean safely, and he was filled with a familiar adoration.

“You think it’s gonna snow or anything? Or like, get really cold? Like in England?”

“Of course not. It’s a tropical island, for crying out loud,” Piggy reassured amusedly, flipping over like a hot dog to tan his stomach instead of his back.

Life was good.

Ralph had noticed that the wilderness around Castle Rock didn’t have as many of the pink berries as near the Lagoon, and so on a few of the fire deliveries he also brought baskets of extra berries. 

Sometimes, when a member of Ralph’s tribe would return from Castle Rock they’d have not only meat but the skin of the meat too, which was able to be used for blankets.

Sometimes, when Ralph would do a fire run, he wouldn’t come back for a few hours, and he’d talk to Robert, who was surprisingly knowledgeable about chameleons, and Maurice, who had always wanted to be an astronaut, just like his dad, to make him proud.

Jack never seemed to be around when he’d visit, and conversing with Roger was completely out of the picture, no matter how badly Ralph wanted elaboration on his strange confession from many weeks ago. 

One night the fire was roaring, and everyone was cuddled around tight due to the freakishly low temperature. The lack of sun mixed with the incoming front had the weather dreary and at least fifteen degrees colder than usual.

The littluns naturally sat in a section, leaving the two remaining logs for the biguns. Ralph happily sat directly across from the kids, Simon taking the spot next to them so he could interact with them.

“Story!” One hollered, grinning toothlessly. The other boys clapped in encouragement.

“Story?” Ralph smirked, sharing a look with Simon. “I think Simon here has a lot of great stories. Don’t you, Simon?”

“As a matter of fact, I do!” Simon beamed, relishing in the way all of the boys cheered in response. “Okay. Once upon a time…”

Everyone fell silent, even the biguns, who were abashedly intrigued. 

The next twenty or so minutes were filled with Simon reciting a thrilling tale of a princess and a dragon and a prince coming to save her. In the end, the plot twist was that the dragon was the hero, and the prince was actually a bad guy. Some of the littluns started crying. Sam and Eric were clinging to eachother.

Eventually, as the adrenaline of the story wore off and the littluns were overcome with yawning, they called it a night. Ralph and Simon escorted the children into the shelters, and Simon even tucked some in, and then they joined the least populated one. 

Ralph laid down and immediately chimichanga’d himself into a blanket, letting Simon share in when he realized it was the last one left. It was one of the warmest ones too, made from pigskin and leaves. 

Simon snuggled in, facing Ralph. 

“How’d you come up with that story?”

“My mum used to tell it to me,” Simon admitted sadly, smiling at the memory. “I wish I could see her again. I wish I’d at least said goodbye.”

“Oh, Simon,” Ralph sulked, reaching out a hand before he’d even processed what he was doing. Simon didn’t seem that surprised by it though, the memory of last time they’d bunked together fresh in his mind. It was a strange parallel. “You’ll see her again. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” Simon argued, despite knowing it was a worthless debate.

“I do know it. I’ll make sure of it,” Ralph promised determinedly, expression confident. “I’ll swim across the ocean if I have to.”

Simon couldn’t help but giggle at that, letting himself smile in the fantasy of his promises. “That’s silly.”

“Won’t stop me.”

Their banter was postponed by a brutal gust of wind, almost tearing off the flap covering the shelter’s entrance and leaving a paralyzing chill in its wake. Ralph was momentarily petrified at the thought of snow. It couldn’t snow, Piggy said so.

Simon shivered, shuffling in towards the center of the blanket for more warmth. Ralph joined him, rubbing his arms.

“We should hug. Body heat.”

“...That’s weird.”

“Oh, don’t get all queer on me now Simon. It’s cold!”  
“I’m kidding,” Simon chuckled, rolling in. Ralph was immediately enveloped in warmth, resting his forehead against Simon’s.

“That’s nicer.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“You too.”

Simon drifted off, and Ralph couldn’t help but eye him warily, haunted by Roger’s words.  
When does protection become possession? Where was the line?


	6. Got My Mind In A Hurry Now

More weeks passed, and the temperatures were plummeting worryingly. One morning the weather was so terribly cold that the boys didn’t bother to exit the shelters, curling up in the blankets and refusing to leave. Eventually Ralph forced them to get out and warm up by the fire, despite the worrying amount of exposure to the cold they’d receive in the process. 

They shivered and sniffled, warm breaths coming out as puffs of steam. The grass was wet and cold against their bare feet.

“We need clothes,” Ralph murmured, eyeing the goosebumps lining tiny arms. “We can use the trees to make shirts, or like, cloaks. We could even ask Jack for more pigskin to make warmer outfits. It’s too cold to stay in just shorts.”

“Agreed. Who made the pillows? They could probably fold up some clothes.”

“I did,” Piggy frowned. “I don’t think I can make clothing though.”

“Just cut out a hole for the head and arms and we can wear them like dresses.” 

Piggy nodded. “I’ll start once the fire run is done.”

“You’re very helpful. Thank you,” Ralph offered in appreciation, patting his back.

Ralph decided to do the fire run, carrying with him many extra berries and shells for jewelry, hoping to bargain for extra pig cloth. He greeted everyone and lit their fire like usual, finally turning to Maurice when he was ready. “I’d like to speak to Jack, if that’s alright.”

“I’ll go get him,” Maurice saluted, rushing off and returning with an irritated looking chief.

“What do you want? We got your meat,” Jack barked, seeming particularly pissed off. Maybe it wasn’t the best time for negotiations.

“I.. I was hoping we could expand on our deal. It’s getting really cold and we’d like some extra pig skin to make clothes out of. If you could just supply some of that we’ll give you daily extra fruits, or like, better firewood.”

Jack thought for a moment before completely losing it, letting out a feral sounding screech. “No! No!” He stomped his foot and clenched his hands in tight fists like he was waiting to punch something. “No you can’t have any pig skin, and you can’t have any pig either! We don’t need you! Our tribe is fine without you!” 

Ralph felt confusion fill his veins, repressing any anger threatening to bubble up. “What are you talking about?”

“The treaty is over! We don’t need your fire! No more trading, no more association, nothing!”

Ralph’s blood ran cold. Would that mean…?

“Only peace,” Jack continued confidently, seeming to read his mind. “The peace treaty will remain. Because a war with you is not worth it.”

“So.. it’s over? But why?”

“I already told you! We don’t need you! Get out of my territory, and stay off of my land!”

“Jack please-”

“Out!”

His scream was punctuated by Roger throwing a stone his way, missing on purpose.

Ralph, in shock, ran as fast as he could out of Castle Rock.

The next day Ralph sent Simon on the fire run, despite Piggy’s worried protests. He figured Jack had made a rash decision in a moment of weakness, and this was his chance to show that they could recover from it, it wouldn’t damage their alliance.

Simon, dreadfully wishing for shoes to shield his skin from the pokey, frosted grass, rushed to Jack’s base. Some of the hunters seemed surprised to see him, hints of gratitude betraying their stoic nature.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked quietly, curiously. Simon shrivelled up to attention like a frightened rat, retrieving the glasses and looking away from the still unlit firepit. 

“I, uhm, bringing you fire,” Simon answered, physically shaking from the cold mixed with fear. His voice came out calculated and quick, as he tried his best not to stutter. “Th..The fire run.”

“Didn’t Ralph tell you we’re done with that?” Jack narrowed his eyes, remaining still. His lack of anger only made Simon more scared, and he stepped away cautiously.

“I.. um.. We thought it would be best if we came back a few more times, just to, uh, get out of the schedule and wind down and stuff,” Simon blabbered, quickly losing control of what he was saying in paranoia. 

Jack stepped closer, eyeing Simon down with an aura of authority. For a moment it felt so natural, like an apex predator glaring down at its measly prey. 

And then in one smooth movement Jack dug his claws into Simon’s shirt, picking him slightly up off the ground by his collar. Simon squeaked in surprise, flailing his legs uselessly.

Jack stared him in the eyes, opting to shout in his face. “I’ll say it one more time: I don’t need you! Stay off my bloody land!”

Simon felt tears run down his cheeks, his face going red at the strain and lack of air in the position.

“Get. Out! ” He screamed and pushed Simon away, shoving him into the ground with all the strength he could muster.

And then he was gone, a dozen shocked hunters left in his place.

Maurice and a few other boys knelt down to help Simon up, but the smaller boy just curled up in a ball, riddled with shame and pain. Eventually he helped himself up, nodding his appreciation to them anyways.

He limped home, the whole way pressing gently on the specs to make sure they were still intact.

“Simon!”   
Ralph jumped up from a log by the firepit, running over to assist Simon in walking. He was peppered with gross, yellow bruises, and there was blood leaking through his shirt in numerous places.

“What? What is it?” Piggy narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong with Simon through his blurry vision.

“He’s hurt.”

“It’s not that bad. Just a tiny shove s’all.”

“You look like a dropped apple,” Ralph deadpanned, holding his shoulders to assess him in better depth. “Who did this? Was it Roger? I swear to God if it was-”

“Stop,” Simon frowned, lightly pushing him away. “Stop Ralph. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does! Whoever did this to you will pay,” Ralph growled, looking around for some form of weapon. “I’ll make them learn that we’re not defenseless!”

“No!” Simon sniffled, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands. “No, Ralph! Stop it! It doesn’t matter what happened, we should just leave them alone. They’re done with our treaty.”

“What?” Piggy tripped over a pebble, trying to make his way over to them. Simon, sympathetically, handed his glasses back. 

“There’s no way I’m letting them get away with this. They hurt you!”

“And?” Simon backfired in annoyance, rough emotions getting the best of him. “Others have been hurt much worse and you couldn’t care less! I’m not weak!”

“I’m not saying you’re weak-”

“Well you’re treating me like it! You need to stop treating me like a child!”

Ralph gaped like a fish out of water, wanting to retaliate, or yell at him, or start crying, but instead just watched uselessly as Simon stomped away.


	7. In A Lane We Aren’t Used To

The tribes stopped associating. Ralph missed talking to all of the boys and seeing how they were, but most of all he missed the meat. Everyone was losing weight concerningly fast, especially Simon and himself. As it got colder and colder their thin, leafy outfits became insufficient, and lead to them hunching around the fire for hours at a time without getting much else done.  
Sam and Eric were rather disgusting, and Ralph felt himself on numerous occasions cave in and wipe their snotty noses for them. The littluns were sneezing a lot more and sleeping a lot less, and when they did it was hunched in a cramped ball for body heat. 

The scariest part was when the water started freezing. The lagoon was first, followed by the ocean. Soon enough all water visible from the island had frozen over. 

Luckily Piggy knew how to get water anyways, as there was freshwater still underneath the compacted ice. Samneric thought that was crazy.

Snow began freckling the ground, glittery white blankets preventing the boys from walking without shoes. They ended up making makeshift snow shoes out of blocks of wood and ropes of vine. 

“Do you think we’re gonna die here?” Simon asked one evening, packing up snow in little balls. The littluns had long since gone to bed, and the night was peaceful.

“No. We’re gonna get out of here, of course we are,” Ralph assured, and for a moment he didn’t know if he was more trying to convince Simon or himself. 

“You think anyone is looking for us?”

“Of course. At the very least our parents. Didn’t Jack’s dad have a ship or something?” 

Simon shrugged. “I mean… what if we’re the least of their worries? Things weren’t going very well when we left.”

Ralph remembered. The world had been riddled with chaos and impending war. He hadn’t really given much thought to that.

“If we’re here for much longer, we might have to start our own world. And build buildings and be adults and have babies.”

“Simon, we can’t have babies without girls.”

“Oh, right,” Simon frowned. “We’ll find an alternative.”

“Okay,” Ralph laughed, wishing Piggy was here to hear this conversation. 

Jack huffed in pain, dropping the pokey thistle to put his fingers in his mouth. The blood dissolved on his tongue and he looked down at his work, swallowing his pride.

He’d been spending hours using skinned pig hide to make jackets for the boys, wrapping them up in thistle and cutting open holes for limbs. His fingers were sliced and bleeding and his nose was running, but he wiped them anyways and grabbed the finished clothing, presenting it to his tribe.

The boys seemed overjoyed to have warmth, and started showing them off like varsity jackets. 

After watching them boast for a while, Jack made his way over to the cave, where Roger was working on threading together a few sturdier spears. When Jack walked in he was sitting cross legged on the ground, sharpening a rock in deep focus.

“Hey Rog,” Jack said with a softness reserved for his best friend, sitting down next to him.

Roger’s face lit up. “Jack! I’ve been working really hard and I’ve gotten like five spears done in the past hour.”

“I’m impressed,” Jack grinned, looking down at the weaponry. “I made you something.”

“What?”

Jack held out the jacket, looking away as he did. He was unsure where the sudden embarrassment was coming from, but for a second he didn’t want to see Roger’s response, especially if it was disappointment.

Roger instead slipped the jacket on, flexing his biceps to see them through the fabric.

“You like it?”

“I love it,” Roger insisted, pulling him in for a tight hug.

Jack just sighed and let him, patting his back in return.

\---

Weeks passed without any communication between the inhabitants, each tribe staying as warm as possible while the temperature plummeted.

They had to make mittens and hats, as several of the boys would wake up screaming about how they couldn’t feel their fingers or ears. It snowed heavily, inches piling up, and Ralph was relieved that they’d built the shelters at an elevation. 

He sometimes found himself struggling to get up, physically weakened and mentally burdened. He’d stare at the roof of the shelter, eyes lidded almost completely to avoid attention, and picture that he was still at home.  
Mother would be preparing tea, the soft hum of boiling water lulling him in and out of consciousness. He remembered curling up under his fluffy fleece blanket, not a care in the world. He was never cold then.

And day after day he would embrace the cold, abandoning his selfish desires to sleep the day away or stay warm under his sheet in favor of relighting the fire and getting to work.

Day after day he and his tribe grew much weaker.

And day after day it grew much colder.


	8. I Don’t Wanna Slow It Down

Ralph rubbed his stinging eyes painfully, blinking away the starch dryness in the air. He was annoyed at the sudden awakening, as he’d had a few rough nights anyways and was way behind on sleep. Luckily nobody else woke up, sparing him from having to cradle any crying little boys.

He figured the repetitive thumping was from a nest of acorns above the shelter dropping, or maybe some sporadic hail assaulting their roof. 

Turns out, it was Jack. He was outside of the shelter, throwing pebbles at the aching wood. 

“...Jack?”

“Ralph,” Jack responded, voice breaking halfway through. The quiet fire cast a bright light on the side of his face, highlighting the tears staining his cheeks and the chattering of his teeth. He looked like a wreck.

“What are you doing here?” Ralph whispered loudly, standing in the doorway protectively. He knew he should’ve felt scared, but in the darkness and on his territory he felt Jack was as weak as a littlun.

“I..” Jack approached him, Ralph holding his ground. He then dropped to his knees pathetically, head bowed in shame. “Please.”

“What?” Ralph returned, too shocked to even feel prideful. 

“We need fire,” Jack whimpered, sniffling. “We need to leave Castle Rock. Please.”

“You broke the deal,” Ralph reminded, trying to regain authority as he processed the confession. “And now you’re begging to come back?”

Jack flinched, blinking away the frustration. “I.. I’m sorry. I was angry.” 

“Yeah.”

“But I realized I’m putting myself before my tribe.”  
“Oh?”

“It’s too cold for them. They’re going to get hurt without fire.”

Ralph nodded in understanding.

“And.. and Maurice. He’s fallen ill.”

Ralph pursed his lips, observing Jack’s increasingly pale face. Jack looked… older; there were worry lines permanently etched into his expression, and his shadowy eyes made him look just as tired as Ralph felt.

“Ill?”

“Very ill,” Jack nodded in reiteration, grimacing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. Nobody knows anything about medicine in our tribe.”

“Piggy might be able to help him,” Ralph offered, face emotionless. “Your tribe can move in with ours. As long as you resume the treaty.”

Jack smiled, falling exhausted with relief. “I.. uh. Thanks.”

“Remember what I’ve done for you before you go running your mouth again,” Ralph answered that harshly, turning away. “Move in tomorrow. I’m trying to sleep.”

Jack just nodded in compliance, spending a moment to bask in the fire’s dying heat before running off to return to Castle Rock.


	9. I’m In It If You With It

The boys reunited in a joyful event. A few littluns rejoined their friends and caused loud, obnoxious chaos around the fire. Most of the biguns just warmed their hands and toes, and some of Ralph’s tribe set to making Jack’s tribe better shoes.

There was a bed put together in the furthest corner of the furthest shelter for Maurice, where Piggy, Jack, and Ralph sat and talked. Roger and Simon surprisingly sat together in the corner, talking. Ralph kept a wary eye on them, just in case. 

“He’s definitely got a fever,” Piggy observed, the back of his hand soaked in perspiration as he felt Maurice’s forehead. 

Maurice himself was hardly awake, groaning in pain. He was burning up despite the freezing cold, and Piggy forced him to keep a blanket on his body. “Has he been drinking a lot of water?”

Jack nodded. 

“How long has it been like this?”

“Not too long. He only started feeling icky a few days ago. It hasn’t been this bad though.”

Piggy nodded, frowning. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but we should keep him quarantined so nobody else gets sick. That includes you guys.”

Ralph and Jack nodded along, pretending to know what that meant. 

“You should stay out of this shelter as much as possible. We’ll cram everyone into the other two, worst case scenario in the opposite corner.”

“Got it,” Ralph agreed, sharing a look with Jack. “He’ll be alright.”

“Of course he will,” Jack retaliated, flinching when Maurice fell into an ugly coughing fit.

Maurice blinked a bit, moaning. His words came out uncertain, delirious. “It’s bright.”

Piggy returned not a second later with a piece of fabric to cover his eyes with, damp with cold water. Maurice seemed to appreciate it, smiling weakly. 

“You should probably go,” Piggy warned. “He needs to rest.”

“We shouldn’t leave him alone,” Roger intervened. “I’ll stay. The rest of you can go feed the other boys.”

Jack held back an appreciative grin. “Thanks, Roger.”

Simon crawled up from the floor, joining Ralph and Piggy as they all left the tent. They occupied the boys for a few hours while Jack and Robert went hunting, feasting that night. Everyone seemed happier, privileged with sacred heat and juicy meat and wonderful company.

Some of the older littluns decided to be the entertainment that night, performing a mediocre dance routine as everyone clapped for them in encouragement. 

Ralph bit the strings of fat off of the bone cusped between his hands, giggling as one boy did something particularly stupid. Simon laughed too, falling against Ralph to calm himself down.  
Ralph didn’t mind, even scooting back a little so Simon could rest his head in his lap.  
“This is nice,” Simon remarked, drunk on festivity. “I thought things were getting worse. All we needed was to just get along.”

“You make it sound easier than it is,” Ralph reminded, absentmindedly running his fingers through the coarse locks of noir hair beneath his hand. “I’m worried this is just a fluke. What if Jack’s planning an ambush? What if Maurice is really, really sick?”

Simon turned his head to look into his eyes, reading his expression carefully. “Stop.”

Ralph raised an eyebrow.

“Just for now. Stop worrying. For me.” Simon flashed him a toothy smile for good measure.

Ralph sighed, an affectionate beam tugging the corners of his lips. “Fine.”

Simon continued smiling in appreciation, turning his attention back to the rowdy kids, now singing chaotic hymns with previous members of the choir.

The night was warm.


	10. What Are We Trying To Say

“Open wide,” Roger spoke softly, spookily sounding more like Simon than himself. He dipped the poor excuse of a wooden spoon into the soup, leveling the liquid out before gently coaxing Maurice’s mouth open.

Maurice let out a sound of discomfort, lips hardly parting. Soup leaked down his chin as he attempted to swallow.

“Good job,” Roger pet back his hair, blinking away his impending panic. “You’re doing great. Just a little more.”

“I can’t,” Maurice warned, closing his eyes and panting to catch his breath.

Roger grimaced. “You haven’t eaten in three days. You have to eat.” He was losing weight, and Roger was terrified that he would literally starve to death. “Just one more bite.”

Maurice flew into a coughing fit, chest heaving as he struggled to inhale regularly. Roger waited until his body had calmed down, pouring another sip into his mouth.

Maurice swallowed, then groaned loudly.

“You did it. You’re doing great,” Roger promised. He turned to grab the designated sweat towel, when Maurice grabbed his wrist in a flailed panic, eyes widening.

“It’s happening-”

“Hold on,” Roger demanded, rushing over to the side of the room to grab an empty pillowcase.

Maurice started sobbing and Roger held his hair back as he hurled up thin liquid, vomiting out the contents of his stomach.

Roger gagged at the smell, tying up the pillow when he was done. Maurice was spent, falling back on the bed and passing right out.


	11. Go With Your Heart, Not With Your Mind

Ralph wiped snot from his upper lip distastefully, sniffing forcefully to clear his congestion. The air was especially dry and thin, making his nose itch and his eyes water. He was in a hurry to fill the coconuts and return them to the shelters, so he could hopefully be comfier by the fire.

Simon sat at his side, ringing out drenched clothes. He was on laundry duty, which mainly consisted of dipping clothes into the lake and then rubbing flowers on them to improve the smell. 

Jack was at the water beside them too, disinfecting sheets of pig-skin with whatever materials he’d gathered. Ralph didn’t care too much, as long as it wasn’t killing them.

“Dogs are better. They’re loyal and strong,” Jack reasoned, scraping some dead bugs off his current hide.

“That’s true, but cats live longer,” Simon retaliated, dropping someone’s underwear in disgust. “And they can be nicer, if you’re nice to them. They’re just like humans.”

“What do you think Ralph?” Jack turned to him, clearly annoyed.

Ralph’s brain stuttered, and he answered without thinking. “I like horses.”

Simon and Jack looked at him, then eachother, and then nodded.

“Horses are pretty cool.”

“Yeah. They’re big and fast.”

“I wish I had a horse.”  
“Help!” A shrill voice screamed, interrupting their pleasant discussion. “Hurry! Help!”

“What’s going on?” Ralph demanded, cutting off Jack’s voice as he began to ask the same thing.

“Piggy! He’s dead!”

“What?” Simon gaped, dropping his laundry.

“He stopped breathing! He almost fell into the fire!”

Ralph discarded the coconuts completely, jumping to his feet and starting to sprint towards the shelters. Simon and Jack joined him.

Around the fire were a hoard of littluns, circling around like a curious mob.

Ralph pushed through them, kneeling down when he saw Piggy on the ground. His eyes were blinking rapidly and he was fully responsive, very much not dead, rather looking like he was gazing at the clouds.

“Piggy?” Ralph addressed hesitantly. “Are you alright? A youngin told us you fell.”

Piggy opened his mouth to respond, but rather than speaking he began choking, gasping for breath and clutching at his neck hopelessly. All of the littluns started screaming, only making the chaotic atmosphere worse.

“Wh..?”

Jack and Ralph shared a look, everything suddenly clicking.

“Ass-mar!”

“Sucks.”

“Yeah.”

They giggled for a second before zoning back into the present.

“Does anyone know any medical procedures?”

“Piggy does.”

Jack deadpanned him. “Other than Piggy.”  
“Uhmm,” Simon practically whispered, looking like a deer in the headlights. “I think I know what to do.”

Seeing him so filled with fear made Ralph feel utterly guilty, wanting to give him surplus amounts of confidence and reassurance. Instead, he was efficient, muttering: “Go on.”

“CPR,” Simon started, hands shaking wildly as he stared at Piggy’s purpling face. It was sickening, watching the boy’s eyes roll back into his head as he asphyxiated. “My mum told me about it. You have to push down on their chest and then give mouth to mouth.”

“I’ll do it,” Jack volunteered, and nobody objected. He was probably the strongest, after all. 

Jack dropped to his knees, placing his hands like stacked pancakes above Piggy’s fat belly. He looked unsure but proceeded anyways, putting all of his force into pushing downward. “How many times do I have to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Simon admitted. “Just keep going until it feels right.”

Jack accepted that as a decent answer, complying. He compressed about fifteen times before running out of breath, quitting. He then awkwardly leaned down, giving Piggy a peck on the cheek.

“What was that?” Ralph gawked in disbelief.

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” Jack retorted, visibly disgusted.

Simon facepalmed, taking his place and breathing into Piggy’s mouth instead of Jack. Piggy’s chest rose and fell unnaturally, scaring the boys shitless.

“Keep going,” Simon ordered passively, stepping back to let Jack continue.

Eventually, after minutes of intense observation, Jack was shoved away by a confused but breathing Piggy.

The asthmatic boy looked around frantically, pale in the face and still hyperventilating. “Wh.. What’s… Where am I?”

Jack didn’t bother filling him in, dramatically collapsing on his back as he caught his own breath. He looked exhausted.

“You had an ass-mar.”

“What?” Piggy blinked a few times, removing his glasses to properly rub his eyes.

“Asthhhmar,” Simon stretched, failing to pronounce it correctly.

“Oh,” Piggy nodded in understanding, looking frightened. “I need water.”

“I’ll go get you some,” Simon offered compassionately, rushing back off to collect some freshwater. 

“Why did that happen?” Ralph swallowed fearfully, looking down at his friend.

“I usually only have asthma attacks after working too hard,” Piggy considered, shutting his eyes. “Or if it’s getting too cold.”

“Well damn it Piggy, you could’ve told us that,” Ralph sighed faggedly. “C’mon, I’ll help you up. You’re staying next to the fire. I’ll grab you a blanket.”

Piggy just nodded in gratitude, respectfully obliging by his wishes. The crowd dispersed, although not without worried delay.

Jack remained on the ground, Robert poking at his back with the rounded butt of a spear. 

“Get up,” Ralph rolled his eyes, lazily kicking him. “Off the ground.”

Jack groaned, instead rolling over. “What’s this supposed to mean? It’s getting too cold for some of us to survive?”

“At least for Piggy,” Ralph shrugged, giving up on getting him to stand. “What it means is we need rescue, and fast.”

“Thanks for enlightening me,” Jack quipped sarcastically.

“I’m going to check on Maurice,” Ralph responded apathetically, ignoring him. 

“I’ll come with,” Jack decided, annoying him even more.

Together they climbed into the third shelter, finding Roger literally passed out next to Maurice’s bed. Maurice was awake, thumbing with the sheets to pass the time. He hardly seemed to notice them entering.

“Hey,” Jack whispered, glancing at Roger. “Long day?”

“Afraid so. I threw up a bit,” Maurice chuckled humorlessly, displaying his tooth gap. “He’s been helping a lot.”

“Yeah. We’re super grateful,” Ralph returned, feeding a subtle need to defend their authority.

Maurice’s smile fell a bit, and he blinked away the heaviness in his eyelids. “I don’t want to wake him up. I’m so bored though.”

“I can stay and talk to you,” Ralph proposed, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll stay too, make sure Roger doesn’t wake up,” Jack decided, sitting next to the sleeping boy.

“Thank you,” Maurice simpered, decrepit and small.

And they coexisted. Ralph sat and listened to Maurice’s stories, about his first crush on a little girl named Carol to his favorite flavor of juice. Ralph admired how much Maurice wanted to do. He wanted to make everyone proud. He dreamed of moving to Venus with a wife and dog and children, and then finding the cure for cancer, and creating world peace. Very ambitious, Ralph noted, but who could blame him. Ralph dreamed too, being stuck on the intensely prohibiting island.

Jack listened as well, eyes closed, running his hand through Roger’s hair subconsciously. Ralph didn’t comment on it, knowing if he did that Jack was guaranteed to stop. 

At one point Simon joined them too, sitting cross-legged next to Ralph. He joined in on Maurice’s conversation, the both of them for some reason knowing extensive amounts about fishing. Ralph didn’t understand what they were saying, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Temporarily, his heart felt full, an ever present void being filled with the loving comradery of family.


	12. Sometimes I Need To Jump In The Fire

Maurice wasn’t getting better. Ralph was getting scared. 

\---

“Got one!” Ralph cheered, rushing over to the dead hog. He cut open the throat as Jack had always instructed, refusing to let the hunters’ haunting chant enter his mind. 

“Lucky shot,” Jack rolled his eyes. “Good job, though.”

“Thank you,” Ralph answered, habitually overlooking the insult. He picked up the pig, Jack joining him and helping carry the fat animal. They’d had significantly less luck in catching food recently, as the temperatures and frequent snow storms were forcing them into hiding.

They carried the pig home, roasting it. They feasted. Ralph grabbed an extra bit of meat, climbing into the quarantine shelter to give it to Maurice.

The sick boy just coughed upon seeing him, smiling weakly. Saliva drooled from the corners of his mouth. He looked like he’d seen death. 

“Heya Maur,” Ralph sat next to him, offering the food. Maurice simply shook his head, peacefully content.

Ralph sighed, biting into the spare piece himself. He sat next to the ill boy, frowning.

“I miss my mother,” Maurice spoke out of nowhere, glossy eyes looking at the ceiling. 

“Me too.”

“She died,” Maurice clarified, earning a soft “oh”. “I’m glad she didn’t have to live through this. Sometimes I wonder if she would’ve missed me. I’m sure my pa doesn’t.”

“That’s not true,” Ralph comforted, despite having no evidence backing him up. “I’m sure he misses you.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Maurice frowned, sniffling. 

“Love can be complicated,” Ralph reasoned, shrugging. 

“How would you know?”

Ralph pursed his lips, eyes not daring to look up. “I think I love someone. And it’s very complicated.”

Maurice eyed him, innocent curiosity peaked. “That makes sense. I suppose you haven’t seen her since before the crash.”

“Not exactly,” Ralph answered before thinking, mentally cursing himself for not shutting up. This was not something he should be talking about, especially to Maurice.

The sick boy went through various levels of confusion, melding through puzzledness, disbelief, and finally, realization. 

“Ah.”

Ralph felt himself tremble, thousands of lies and cover-ups filling his brain to pull him out of the hole he’d dug.

“Simon, I suppose?”

He bit his tongue.

Maurice looked inquisitive, but not rejecting. “I can’t say I don’t think that’s… strange… but I guess all love is. You’re right.”

Ralph didn’t say anything, waiting for the disgust. He was startled when Maurice weakly took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly as best he could.

“I don’t know a thing about love,” he admitted. “But.. how could any love be bad?”

Ralph considered this. They contemplated.

“Thanks,” Ralph settled on, too emotionally conflicted to elaborate. Maurice seemed to understand, just keeping him company in silence for a long while.

Soon the feast ended and the sun set, and Jack and Roger climbed into the shelter to take over. Maurice had fallen asleep after dry heaving for a while, leaving them to just watch in case of emergencies.

“How is he?” Jack asked, looking down, pitying. 

“Not too well,” Ralph said straightforwardly. “I don’t think he’s getting better.”

They shared a frown.

“You go rest. We’ll take over,” Jack offered, to which Ralph gratefully agreed to. 

He wouldn’t sleep next to Simon that night, as they’d done frequently as it got chillier. He didn’t sleep at all, kept awake by now both Maurice and Roger’s words.

How could any love be bad?

Remember the line.

\---

Jack threw the condensed vine against the opposite wall, watching as it bounced off and rolled back like a rubber ball. He was bored as hell.

“We’re making Simon or Ralph do this tomorrow night,” he groaned, clonking his head against the wall behind him. “This is boring and I’m tired. You especially deserve a break.”

“Why?” Roger raised an eyebrow, a small smirk being repressed. He liked being cared about.

“You’ve been nursing him a lot more than me,” Jack shrugged, scowling. He didn’t plan on having to explain. “And like… you don’t look the best either.”

“You’re paranoid,” Roger snickered, patting his hair mockingly. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up if something happens.”

Jack scrunched up his nose in frustration, but complied anyways with a curt “fine”.

Thirty minutes later, he pretended to be asleep when Roger threw up.


	13. Rolling The Dice, Blurring The Lines

Ralph gripped Jack’s wrist tightly, leading them through the unbearable white that was shielding their vision. They were trudging through at least a meter of snow beneath them, growing ever thicker as it continued to storm. It was never-ending, and rather windy, making it incredibly inconvenient to be hunting while it raged.

Ralph had accompanied Jack on his hunt, as Robert and a few other older boys were on duty making mittens and scarves. Roger was once again cooped up with Maurice, who’s health was still declining. 

Jack was shivering, lagging behind, and Ralph wanted nothing more than to join him in the pleasure of laziness, but he knew they had to get back to the shelters to make sure everyone was alright. This was one of the worst storms they’d faced on the island, the winds strong enough to physically push someone to the ground had they not been balanced and prepared.

“Hurry,” Ralph urged, seeing the hopeful trace of fire in the slits between tree-trunks. 

“Shut up, you nit,” Jack hissed in return, picking up the pace in an effort to prove himself.

Eventually they made it, collapsing on the logs and warming their soaked pants by the fire.

A littlun pulled at Ralph’s sleeve before he could shut his eyes and reach zen, to which he irritably responded, “what?” 

The littlun wiped his eyes, as he had been crying. “The snow hurts.”

The chief's annoyance dissolved immediately, replaced with tired concern. “Nobody should be outside. Have all of your friends and you stay in a shelter, okay?”

The littlun nodded, sniffling his tiny pink nose and scuttling off to do as he’d said.   
In a disorganized line people piled into the shelters.

“Where are Simon and Roger?” Ralph asked Piggy, who was shivering heavily and uselessly adding more wood to the dwindling fire. 

“In with Maurice. They were taking care of him.”

Ralph nodded, patting his shoulder. “Go get warm. Make sure the littluns are alright.”

There was a terrifying groaning noise that fluttered through the forest, and with a frightening revelation he realized it was coming from the shelters. The snow was sharp and brutal against the unsturdy wood, shaking their structure. He hoped they’d be sturdy enough to last through the storm.

“Jack get ins-” Ralph began, only to be cut off by a loud crack and rip right next to his ear.

“Ralph! Move!” Jack yelled, grabbing his wrist and running as the least sturdy of the shelters collapsed feet away from them. 

Screaming pierced his eardrums, the loud crash of collision echoing in his head. The shelter was completely demolished, various pieces of debris scattered around the camp. He let out a breath as he analyzed the scene, relieved none of the pieces had punctured the other shelters.

He was drawn out of his naïve relief by the sound of frantic crying, reminding him that there had been people in the shelter.

Roger, Maurice, and Simon. Oh god, Simon.

He ran over to the first speck of black he saw, striking lucky as he saw Simon sprawled out on top of a small pile of splintered wood. There was a huge, nasty gash slicing open his cheek, covering most of his face and surroundings with blood.

Ralph dropped to his knees next to the young boy, not hesitating to wrap his hands around his shoulders and gently shake him.

“Simon! Simon, are you ok?” He asked frantically, watching the confused boy blink the residue and shock out of his eyes.

“Wh.. What happened?” Simon continued to blink, eventually wiping his eyes and being greeted by the sight of his hand covered in thin crimson. “What’s going on? Is that blood?” His eyes filled with tears, whether from panic or to exterminate the dust he didn’t know. “Am I going to die, Ralph?”

“Shh, calm down,” Ralph comforted, unaware of the horrified trembles running through his own body. “Shh. You’re fine. You’re not gonna die, it’s just a little scrape. Piggy can help you.”

He wrapped his arm under Simon’s legs and his other under his back, the tan boy’s head dangling uncomfortably as he failed to keep it lifted. Ralph ran to the still standing shelters -which had fortunately stopped croaking in frailty-, dropping the boy off on top of a blanket for Piggy to look at.   
His mouth felt full of cotton, his brain was delayed. He couldn’t process. Oh god, what if Simon had died?  
His heart spiked, anxiety overcoming him as he swelled on that thought. He needed him. If Simon died, what would he have left? 

Jack, out in the wreck, desperately looked for his hunters, digging through piles of wood and vine and snow. He was uncharacteristically panicked, desperate to find his companions before it was too late. They could easily freeze to death, buried under heavy wood and blanketed in freezing snow.

Eventually he stopped upon a particularly large pile of rubbish, digging it apart and exposing a curled up Roger. 

“Oh thank God,” Jack broke, crawling into the mess and dragging the body from the junk.

Roger was out, body covered in bruises and splinters and slivers. Jack knew it would be hell when he woke up, but he was more concerned about head injuries. What if he hit his head and had a concussion? Nobody knew how to deal with those. 

Jack was greeted by Ralph and Robert, the former tapping his shoulder to catch his attention.

“Robert will take him back to Piggy,” Ralph instructed. “Have you found Maurice?”

Jack shook his head.

“We’ve got to find him.”

They looked around for ages, and eventually found him by accident as Jack tripped over his camouflaged legs.

Ralph quickly brushed the overbearing snow off of Maurice’s skin, heart stopping when he saw his torso.

There was a piece of wood impaled directly through his chest, staining his clothes and the snow red and turning the surrounding skin a sickly green.

“Jack,” Ralph whimpered, drawing his attention to the issue.

“Oh,” Jack murmured upon seeing it too, turning away as if he were to vomit. “Oh.”

Maurice’s eyes blinked open as he heard them talk, eyeing them both curiously. He didn’t seem pained, or even very aware of what was going on.

He began speaking, voice coming out small and breathy. “I feel weird. Where am I?”

Ralph and Jack shared a look.

“Why do I feel so weird,” he asked, all of a sudden his face perking up. “Am I… am I in space?”

Jack winced, looking pained. “Mau-”

“Yes,” Ralph interrupted, earning a surprised glance from Jack.

“And you all came with me?” Maurice asked softly, stopping and coughing violently as a chunk of blood was excreted from his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, eyes filling with tears as he caught on.

“You really do care about me,” Maurice mumbled, looking between the two of them with a previously dulled commendation.

“Of course we do.”

There was another thick pause, crimson leaking unaddressed from Maurice’s chin.

“My pa?”

Jack answered. “He’s back on Earth. He’s so, so proud of you.”

“Proud of me? Really?”

“Yup.”

Maurice’s eyes widened, staring out at nothing in particular, and he broke out into an uncontainable grin. “Proud of me.”

He choked on the blood in the pit of his throat, and the smile was gone. 

Jack emitted a pained sound, covering his face with his hands as he broke down. 

Ralph was silent and motionless, just staring at what was Maurice in impenetrable shock.

Ultimately Robert found them, postponing his own stupor and grief in favor of returning them to warmth.

The storm subsided. They broke the news.

They mourned.


	14. I Don’t Wanna Live In Denial

The next morning was so cold. They were cold beyond skin, beyond the physical realm. Ralph didn’t get up.

They didn’t eat. The littluns cried. So did the hunters.   
Jack passed out spears and they shovelled the snow out of their clearing and away from the shelters.

Simon made a grave. Little Percy put some mulberries on top of it.

\---

Ralph got angrier. He became angry and frustrated at the world. Why did he deserve this? What did he do?

“Get out here and eat with the littluns. They’re scared and want their chief,” Jack demanded, barging into the empty shelter and disturbing his peace.

“Piss off, Merridew,” Ralph snapped, throwing his drinking coconut at the wall next to him. Jack looked momentarily stunned at the immediate aggression, quickly replaced by annoyance. 

“Are you still moping about Maurice? Everyone else is grieving too but they’re at least doing their jobs!” He accused, stepping further into the shelter. 

Ralph was quick to his feet, getting in his space. “It’s your fault! If your hunters would’ve helped me build the damn shelter in the first place none of this would’ve happened!”

“Oh fuck off,” Jack snarled. “He would’ve died anyways. He was practically dead when it happened.”

“Don’t say that!” Ralph screamed, shoving his chest roughly. “You can’t say that! He would’ve been fine!”

“I wish I could believe you,” Jack responded calmly, anger boiling at the very top. “Roger’s sick too. He’s probably going to die as well, and there’s nothing we can do about it. There’s nothing you can do about what happened, so get over it, and stop acting like a baby.”

Ralph’s nostrils flared. “Get out Jack!”

“Ralph we need hunt-”

“Get out!”

Jack just scoffed, leaving. 

\---

“Where on earth have you been?” 

“Getting you guys food, because the rest of your hunters are bloody useless,” Ralph snarled, dropping two full swine in front of Jack.

The ginger boy just looked down in shock. “You.. You got both of these? Alone?”

“Maybe I did,” Ralph kicked one roughly, its head lolling around on the ground.

Jack swallowed down his worry, perpetually ignoring the aura of aggression from the other boy. He silenced an impulsive ‘I could’ve done that too’, instead playing it neutral. “Well, thanks.”

“Yeah. Have them cooked by sundown,” Ralph ordered, stomping off to do whatever the hell he did in his spare time.

Jack watched, dumbstruck, setting to drag them to the fire without question.


	15. Some Things You Can’t Explain

The days weren’t as cold anymore, snow still scattered around but adorned with melted puddles of slush. They were feasting much more often, Ralph having permanently taken over hunting. Jack was angry beyond comprehension, but was too busy taking care of a now frighteningly ill Roger to complain. 

They sat around the fire, talking cheerfully. The littluns were playing leap-frog, and a few had taken to demanding piggy back rides from Piggy himself. Simon sat across from Ralph, who watched him play patty-cake with a young kid.

He felt Jack’s gaze heavy on him, not bothering to look as he addressed him. “Why are you looking at me?” 

Jack didn’t look away, or even feign shame for being caught. “You’re staring at Simon.”

“You’re staring at me.”

“I want to know why you’re staring at Simon.”

Ralph turned to make contact with Jack, eyes narrowing. “Because he’s across from me. Can you get off my back?”

“You’re always staring at Simon.”

Ralph felt a surge of hostility, jumping to his feet and grabbing Jack by the collar. Jack got up almost immediately too, shoving him off dangerously close to the fire. They’d caught the eyes of everyone around, Ralph catching his breath as he calmed his adrenaline. Jack appeared shaken, his fight or flight response taking him off guard. 

Ralph met Simon’s eyes, laced with confusion and concern. He couldn’t take it.  
He rushed off to an empty shelter, burrowing himself away from everyone. He punched the wall without too much force, not breaking the wood but staining his knuckles a bloody maroon. 

He enjoyed the solemn silence for a while, until it was broken by someone climbing in with him.

“It’s me,” Simon clarified helpfully, before he blew his fuse.

“Simon,” Ralph sighed, burying his head in his knees. “Why am I so mad?”

“Shh,” Simon calmed, sitting next to him and rubbing his back comfortingly. “Deep breaths. Don’t think about it.”

He shook back and forth, hands stimming as he calmed his body down. He eventually stopped moving, hyper aware of the hand on his back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, running a hand through his hair. “Can you tell Jack I said sorry?”

Simon didn’t answer, lips quirking up in a small smile. “He knows.”

Ralph didn’t think too much into that, just smiling too. His heart felt full, and he was overwhelmed with a wave of pure gratitude.

“I’m glad you’re here, Simon.”

“You too,” Simon returned, squeezing his shoulder.

\---

“C’mon Rog, wake up,” Jack coaxed, gently tapping his burning cheek.

Roger groaned, rolling over to avoid the persistent hand. Jack didn’t quit, however, forcing him to sit up.

“Wh.. Jack, m’tired..”

“You have to drink some water. You’ve been sleeping for ages,” Jack reminded, trying to hide the lingering fear that had racked his body when Roger momentarily wouldn’t wake up.

“I’m tired,” Roger repeated, rubbing his eyes. He curled in on himself, falling into a coughing fit.

“I know you’re tired, but you have to drink,” Jack stressed, mentally cursing the tears that were burning in the corners of his eyes. 

Roger weakly lifted his arm, setting it in Jack’s lap. He cautiously took his hand.

“Roger,” Jack pleaded quietly, uncontrollably sobbing as the sick boy fell back asleep. 

He dropped his head and rocked back and forth, holding his hand tightly as he cried. His subconscious screamed at him as he unwillingly accepted the closure.


	16. Just Don’t Think So Much Right Now

Ralph stopped thinking about too many things other than Simon. Simon was always there for him. Simon was the only one who really understood him.

He started offering more of his portions of meat to the raven haired boy. God knew he needed it more. He spent more time with him, made him better clothes. He wanted him to be happy.

Simon had exclaimed, face lit up with joy as he fingered through the scarf Ralph had made for him out of pigskin and leaves. Simon looked perfect in it. That same night Ralph returned to the shelter and paced to burn off his frustration, upset with an unsuccessful hunt. Simon had calmed him down, sitting down on the floor with him and grounding him as he got more and more anxious.

Ralph had rubbed his thumb across his cheek, over the small bump left from the scar (that had healed surprisingly well). They had pressed their foreheads together, Simon’s warm breath against his cheek silencing his manic thoughts and overbearing anger. When they pulled apart Simon was flushed a light red, but Ralph didn’t think about it. He didn’t want to think about it.

All he needed was Simon.

thelinethelinethelinethe-


	17. Hope It Don’t Blur

“C’mon, how long is it gonna take you to finish those spears?” Jack nagged, tossing around a pinecone like a juggler. 

Ralph pointedly ignored him, continuing to sharpen the rock at the tip of the weapon.

“You’re taking ages. I’m just going to bring Simon instead,” Jack decided.

“No!” Ralph blurted, emotions bubbling up once again. “Not Simon.”

“Why not?” Jack crossed his arms.

“Because I said so! Bring someone else!”

“No!” 

Ralph jumped to his feet, but Jack was prepared this time, catching his wrist as he tried to punch him.

“You’re just, obsessed with Simon!” Jack laughed incredulously, throwing down his arm roughly. “It’s driving you mad! Look at yourself!”

“Shut up, Jack!” Ralph barked, throwing another punch. They fell into a useless little scuffle, Jack evading Ralph’s futile attempts to hit him.

“Stop, stop it!” Simon commanded, trying to intervene between them. He shoved Jack back, who huffed in annoyance, and stood in front of Ralph as he tried to calm him down. “Stop, Ralph.”

“Why are you telling me to stop? He’s being petty!”

“You’re being petty too!” Simon pointed out, but Ralph was too far gone. He huffed out angry mutters, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to stay still. “Please, calm down.”

“Move, Simon,” Ralph demanded through clenched teeth, eyes fixated on Jack.

“Stop it,” Simon repeated, trying to push away the spear.

“I said move!” Ralph snapped loudly, pushing him back. 

Simon looked hurt but held his ground. “Stop!”

“God dammit, Simon!” Ralph growled, slashing the head of the spear at his face.

Everyone hushed as Simon fell to the ground, hands cupping his cheek. Tears started streaming and he curled up, sniffles the only sound present other than crackling fire.

It took a moment for Ralph to sober up and realize what he’d done, dropping the spear and falling to his knees. “Oh.. oh my god. Oh. I.. I’m sorry Simon, I don’t know what I was thinking, I-”

He shut up when Simon refused to look at him, rolling over to look the other way. His breath caught in his chest; he could see a black bruise already climbing up Simon’s skin, an excess amount of blood pouring from the reopened wound. 

He did that. 

Everyone was staring at him. They looked perturbed. 

He hurt Simon.

He flexed his fingers and toes, making sure he could feel all of his limbs.

And then he ran.


	18. These

He hid in a cave. He found himself starving, refusing to leave and find food. It was darker and colder everyday, waste and stench clogging his senses.

The bugs started whispering to him. That’s how Simon must have felt.

The more he thought about Simon the more he felt himself wanting to die.

\---

When he was found it was not by Simon, nor Jack nor Piggy or anyone else he knew.

It was by an officer. An adult, covered in dirt and grime and sweat. He couldn’t remember the walk to the ship. He just couldn’t.


	19. Lines

“Good to see you up.”

He tried to look at her but was too distracted, eyes glued on the audibly ticking clock. She didn’t seem to mind, waiting patiently.

He eventually sat down on the couch, tapping his fingers against the armrest to the clock’s beat.

“How have you been, Ralph?”

“Okay,” he answered nonchalantly, shrugging. He didn’t meet her eyes.

“I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track, but this is officially your hundredth session. I’m really proud of your progress,” she smiled gently, flicking through a collection of papers. “Would you like to hear my thoughts?”

Ralph nodded begrudgingly. 

“Well, I believe with the abrupt loss of your loved ones and... intense circumstances, you needed an outlet to project your natural affection.” She observed him, pausing before continuing. “It became a manic obsession, the reason you wanted to continue living. You couldn’t handle the complexity of it, so you developed an infatuation, a lustful need for possession.”  
“Love and lust can have a very blurred line, just like, what was it?” She went to check her notes, but Ralph finished for her.

“Protection and possession.”

“There is a great chance that you did love Simon, just as Roger may have loved Jack. But you were too young and your mental states were so fragile and unhealthy that the depths of your relationships are truly unidentifiable.” 

Ralph swallowed. It hurt to hear, even after so many years of knowing it subconsciously.   
He was grateful that she didn’t insist on continuing the session after telling him something so heavy; she instead just smiled, changing the subject. “There’s someone waiting for you in the commons.”

Ralph just grunted in acknowledgement, still speechless by the accuracy of her diagnosis.

“I’ll see you next week for a full session. Get some sleep,” she insisted, beaming. He smiled back halfheartedly, standing up and hastily making his way towards the lunch hall. 

He got himself a coffee, sitting down at a table and twirling the liquid around with his mixing stick as he waited. Eventually someone tapped on his shoulder, and he stood up to greet them.

He was met with black hair. 

“...Simon?” 

“Ralph,” Simon returned breathlessly, laughing quietly and scanning him over. “This is so weird. God, you’re so tall.”

“You are too!” Ralph laughed, mind hazy with shock. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“I missed you,” Simon admitted, smiling in a way that filled Ralph’s belly with nostalgic butterflies. When he smiled his scar became more prominent. Ralph buried the deeply ingrained guilt upon seeing it.

They began a casual stroll down the hallway, both bursting with things to say and yet silenced by the atmosphere.

“So… How did you get here?” Simon asked, breaking the ice.

“I checked myself in about a year ago,” Ralph shrugged, leading them through the familiar hospital. “I guess I just never recovered.”

Simon nodded in understanding. “It’s a nice place. I’ve been looking for you.”

“How so?”

“I tried to track you down,” Simon chuckled sadly, gazing downward. “It took me this long to find you. I just really wanted to see you again.”

Ralph didn’t respond to that, chest twisting with some foreign emotion. “What about everyone else?”

Simon perked up, looking prepared. “I thought you’d ask, I did some research. You won’t believe it.”

“What,” Ralph prompted, the air immediately lightened.

“Piggy is in uni to be a neurosurgeon.”

“No way!”

“Yeah! He’s a genius.”

Ralph nodded. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“Merridew ended up being, I kid you not, a firefighter.”

“No.”

“Yes! And he sings in his church choir. He can still hit a high C.”

“That’s insane.”

“I know, right?” Simon laughed. “I’m pretty sure Roger joined the military. I talked to Jack and he yapped on and on about Roger’s chihuahua.” 

“He’s alive?” Ralph gaped, memories crowded with pictures of Roger being ill and certainly close to death. “Do they still talk? Jack and Roger?”

“I’m not sure,” Simon shrugged. “I’d hope so. They seemed close.”

Ralph nodded in agreement. “What about you? How have you been?”

Simon pursed his lips, discomfort obvious.   
“It hasn’t been easy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I uh, I live in a place like this too. I didn’t check myself in though.”

“Oh,” Ralph murmured in understanding. 

“I wish I’d never left the island,” Simon admitted, voice hollow. “Sometimes it feels like I never did. I’ll wake up and I’m still there.”

Ralph swallowed, stopping to habitually touch his shoulder in comfort. It surprised him how easy it came back to him, the natural urge to protect. To possess, his mind supplied him.

“Not all of my memories of the island are bad, though,” Simon began, looking at him with raw emotion in his expression. “All the good ones have you in them.”

Simon took his hand from his shoulder and instead held it, stars in his eyes. “I was in love with you. I didn’t know it then, but I do now.”

Ralph was awestruck into silence, words eluding him. So he settled with a shaky nod, lips tightening as he held back tears.  
“Me too, Simon.”

Simon broke, laughing, leaning forward and kissing him.

He kissed back, tears escaping from shut eyelids as his world came crashing down on him. 

In that moment Ralph was struck with the realization he didn’t know he’d been waiting for: protection, possession, love, lust- the blurred lines didn’t matter. 

All that did matter was he wanted Simon, and that was the clearest thing in the world.


End file.
